Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or its characters. Likewise, Pokemon and its characters do not own me...in theory.

Rosa's POV:

"You found quite an unusual Pokémon, didn't you, Rosa?" Alder asks me, seemingly hiding a bright grin behind the hand he passes over his jaw and his mouth.

It's midday in Floccesy Town, the sun shining weakly through clouds weighted darkly with rain. However weak the sun is, I feel a burning fire inside of me, a heat as intense as standing on Mercury. To my left stands Muse, an edgy little smirk contorting her cute features, and to my left stands Armstrong, my rather standoffish Riolu.

I glance at Armstrong. As he gazes icily back at me with flat red eyes, I'm reminded of how earlier this afternoon he'd defended himself from the tactical brutality of Muse.

"What's up?" I asked Muse. She stopped right in between the only pair of regular-looking trees in this forest—a pair of supple, flawless birch trees that let the sun shine vibrantly through the leaves. Her nose twitched, and she frowned. Something was up…but what was it, exactly?

Without a moment to spare, a dull blue blur dropped from the tree and slammed Muse hard in the jaw. A Riolu had appeared and was as territorial as the average male Purrloin, so it seemed. "Son a—" I stopped myself from cursing. I realized it was a Riolu, and he glared at me with stark, dusty red eyes. "Muse, Water Gun!" I ordered, resisting the cacophonous notes of what seemed like a novice orchestra in my head.

I let my gaze snap to Alder presently. "He put up something of a fight, I'll say," I admit, "but…I think he was really impressed by Muse…"

Riolu was fast, but Muse was far more tactful. In the past day, she had fought hard against her opponents. Her training, coupled with her natural instincts, gave her the upper hand over the younger Pokémon who clearly hadn't had an opponent stronger than a Mareep on the ranch. Though I gave commands, Muse figured out trajectories and momentum, and essentially beat the Riolu without a lot of effort on her part.

A voice cut into my mind. Stop, it ordered, while Riolu growled "Ri!" out loud. I realized that this Riolu was capable of human speech just like Lucario had been.

Rising to his feet after Muse's last blow, the Riolu glared at me. Are you looking to capture me? Riolu asked, folding his paws over his chest. His mental voice was young and a little roguish, but his language was anything but.

I shrugged. "If you don't want to be captured, I won't capture you."

He turned to Muse, and they had a conversation. Riolu seemed to have a great deal of respect for her battle prowess; if he decided to join my team, I would have a pair of incredibly powerful fighters for a novice Trainer. After a few moments, he turned to me. I have grown bored on this ranch. The Riolu here have grown scarce, and our mentor is gone. The other Pokémon do not provide a good challenge. I feel that if I join you and your Oshawott, I could become as strong as she is.

I felt elated. Maybe it wasn't a resounding yes, but Riolu wanted to join us. I crouched and reached out my hand. "Welcome to the crew," I said, smiling. With hesitation, he rested my paw in my hand and nodded to me.

I finish explaining how Armstrong had come to be part of our team, and Alder grins. "You let him have the choice? Some Trainers wouldn't even think of such a thing. If they want it, they have one of their Pokémon slap it around until it's too weak to obtain." Frowning, he asks, "How did you come up with the name Armstrong, though?"

"It's the last name of a singer I like," I respond sheepishly, "and he liked it when I brought it up."

It is appropriately fierce-sounding for a fighter as well, Armstrong comments, making both Muse and I chuckle.

Alder looks us over. "You know…I wanted you to train under me for a while, Rosa, but I have a different plan."

I raise my eyebrows. "What is this plan?"

"Come inside. I have some very young and impressionable Trainers who need to see the benefit of friendship and quality time with their Pokémon," Alder says, and he darts back into the house.

Me? Help train? For Pete's sake, his young and impressionable Trainers have probably been battling for longer than I have. What are they supposed to learn from me?

Armstrong gazes at me with annoyed eyes. Does this man ever slow down?

I shake my head. "Nah. Never." Muse nods in agreement, poking him with her paw. I can't help but smile; my two Pokémon are very different and very similar. Armstrong, caustic and cool, is Muse's exact opposite, as she is very warm and straightforward generally. However, they both possess determination, and for that I'm grateful. I realize I've been standing and beaming at my Pokémon like an enthusiastic conductor getting hit with the force of a brass section playing forte. "Come on. Let's go inside."

We walk to Alder's house. After the door opens, my nose is greeted with the scent of both delectable spices and old sweat. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the dusky atmosphere, and when they do, I notice the place is clean and well-kept but shabby for a former Champion. A TV show that Hugh made me watch the first time I slept over at his house portrayed most Champions, former and current alike, as having lovely, fashionable homes. For example, Steven Stone in Johto owns many luxurious homes spread all across the world. I doubt that Alder is like that, upon seeing this establishment.

"Come on in, Rosa," Alder booms from the larger part of the house. Lit with old-fashioned gas lamps and smelling more strongly of sweat than the entrance did, this room contains Alder, sitting cross-legged on a rug, and two kids. One is a little girl of about eight at the most, with dark hair tied into pigtails that curve like bass clefs, and the other is a boy who looks a little older, with very neatly-combed brown hair. Alder gestures to these two kids, who look at me with some boredom. "These children are Seymour and Cassie, my two most devoted pupils. Would you care to battle each of them?" he asks.

I know it's already been decided that I would battle these kids, but I nod. "Sure thing. Let's take it outside," I say.

"Seymour, you can go first. Cassie, I want you to take notes on his battle style," Alder says, which almost makes me laugh. Though he's a former Champion, Alder doesn't seem like the sort of guy who'd order a younger trainer to take notes on another person's battle.

We step back outside. The cloud cover overhead has grown increasingly heavier, and adjusting to the light doesn't take much. Seymour eyes my Pokémon and me in a very predatory way for someone who might only be ten at the oldest. I sense much viciousness being repressed inside of him, Armstrong tells me. I'd gotten the same vibe—the look in his eyes reminds me of an overly competitive instrumentalist who won't take no for an answer.

Once we're on opposite sides of the crudely-made dirt arena, Alder settles himself at the midline. "The rules are quite simple," he states, sitting cross-legged. Cassie sits down near him, digging a tiny notepad from the pocket of her dress. My attention snaps back to Alder as he says, "Whoever runs out of Pokémon first loses—and don't be unnecessarily brutal." This last comment seems to be aimed at Seymour, who merely sighs and crosses his arms.

"Armstrong, do you want to battle first?" I ask. As the newest of the newbies in our group, I have to make sure my Riolu is comfortable. In our battles on the way back to Floccesy Town, he'd proven himself to be more the capable, but I'd also only captured him earlier today. Perhaps he feels tired or needs a break.

Armstrong shook his head. Let Muse battle first. I am weary.

"Modern language, Armstrong. Modern. Language," I mutter, and then nod to Muse. "Go on. You're up first."

At Alder's cue to start, Seymour releases a small red Pokémon with a swirling tuft of fur on its head. It takes me a moment to realize that it's a Pansear; I haven't seen one in years. My mom had fostered an orphaned one back in her days of being a Pokémon Center attendant, but it was a much sweeter-looking one than this. Pansear has a hard edge to his eyes, and he glares at Muse with hatred.

Seymour orders, "Lick." His voice is young but chilly, unlike his Fire-type Pokémon.

"Dodge, and use Water Gun," I command. Muse springs easily out of the way and shoots a fast Water Gun, but Pansear is faster. He springs away on his palms and lands behind Muse, where he uses an unordered Scratch attack that tears three gashes across her back.

Muse cries out angrily as I order, "Don't worry; we'll get him yet. Tackle him." She lashes her tail out as he tries to sweep around her, making him stumble, and she then throws her weight down on Pansear in a move akin to Body Slam.

Seymour growls, "Scratch on its face."

Hell. This kid is a very dirty battler. Thankfully, Muse is the perfect antidote to drawing blood and vicious attack tactics. As Pansear swings his hands crooked into talons at Muse, I say, "Blast it down! You can do it!" She knows well enough that this means a Water Gun attack. The pulse of water blasts Seymour's Pansear harder into the ground than her Tackle did, and this direct hit doesn't do Pansear well. He staggers slowly backward, cringing and attempting to sneer. He fails, however, and totters backward onto his backside.

Seymour scowls. "Get up, Pansear."

Pansear attempts to, but with his shaky legs, he can't do it. He lets himself flop over backwards, grumbling, "Pan…sear."

Seymour represses a loud growl and returns him. "Should've used items," he grumbles.

His attitude reminds me of the strange man from earlier that day. Folding my arms across my chest angrily, I quietly seethe, "Should've shown some respect for your Pokémon."

"Excuse me?" Seymour snaps, glaring at me as though I'd told him something he didn't know.

I give a tight, angry sort of smile. Sort of like a skull's grin. "I haven't been doing this for very long, but you're ridiculous. Do you really expect to treat a Pokémon like a war machine and get anything good out of it?"

"Isn't that what I've been telling you for the past three months, Seymour?" Alder asks quietly, his voice carrying neutral tones masterfully. "If a complete beginner can tell how badly you treat your Pokémon, then doesn't that mean it's time for a change?"

Wordlessly, Seymour returns his Pokémon to his Pokeball and storms off. The gray, wan-looking sky seems happier than this Seymour kid. Alder gazes off after him sadly. "It's a shame. He's tactically very bright, but he can't treat that pour Pansear of his very well," he says quietly.

"Do I write that in my notes?" Cassie asks, making me chuckle. She's serious in a very cute and honest way, like many young children are.

Alder seems to be used to questions like this and sighs. "You know whether or not to write things like that in your notes. Are you ready to battle?"

She bounces onto her feet, nodding with solemnity. Her notes lay forgotten at her feet as she tugs a Pokeball from her dress pocket. I glance back at Armstrong. "Hey, are you going to take this one?" I ask.

Certainly, he replies, padding forward. With ease he settles into a fighting stance, shooting me an odd, lazy grin that doesn't suit his face. He gets this every single time he goes into battle. It seems so uncustomary for a Pokémon that's so normally serious and grouchy…

Cassie tosses a Pokeball wordlessly, releasing a Panpour. Unlike Pansear, Panpour seems reserved and gentle—a very uncharacteristic trait for one of the three elemental monkeys. He glances back at Cassie, waiting for an order.

"Use Leer, please," Cassie says, and I'm taken aback by the stark difference from Seymour in the way she treats her Pokémon. Panpour, in spite of his typically lax expression, glares daggers at Armstrong, who can't help but shudder.

I sigh. It's saddening, how Pokémon are entrapped by moves like that that tend to lower their stats. "Armstrong, use Quick Attack!" I say.

Armstrong springs after Panpour quickly, but his opponent dodges lithely, eyebrows raised as if to say, "Too slow."

Growling, Armstrong glances back at me. He mocks me.

"I sense that. Quick Attack again," I order. He's faster than Panpour, so I might as well use that to my advantage, right?

"Scratch him when he gets close," Cassie says just as Armstrong gets close. I want to tell him to stop, but there isn't enough time as Panpour jabs his sharp nails into my Riolu's side, drawing blood. I repress the urge to curse. I can't just beat Pokémon down with brute force, obviously. Maybe I have to use something a little more tactful to take care of a very careful, patient Trainer, especially if using Armstrong's speed isn't giving us the edge that I hoped it would…well, in a case like this…maybe it was time to use the move Counter.

Armstrong draws back. Your plan is not working, he snipes.

I smile. "Have some faith."

Cassie orders another Scratch attack. I sense some more confidence and aggression in her attack style now; maybe she thinks Armstrong isn't strong enough or smart enough to take on Panpour. "Wait," I tell Armstrong, who is getting ready to charge at her. He looks back at me like I'm possessed. When Panpour gets too close to turn back, I say, "Counter."

Panpour lands a direct hit, but my Riolu punches him in the gut with twice the force than he'd been hit with. It decimates Panpour, sending him slamming into the ground about seven feet away, hissing in pain. I had no idea that I could have that much power, Armstrong ponders, and I wonder if he meant to say that to me or not.

"Oh no!" Cassie cries. "Please get up!"

Panpour gets onto his feet shakily. She smiles, evident relief in her feature. "Good work. Use Leer again!"

Panpour starts to glower at Armstrong, but I don't give him the chance. "Do a Quick Attack. He's barely standing," I order.

He hits quickly, and Panpour is down wordlessly.

Cassie sighs loudly. "Darn it," she says, and she goes out to pet Panpour's head. "You did well, little buddy." She returns him to his Pokeball and studies me.

I feel a little nervous under her gaze. Like Seymour, her eyes are intense, but more in the way that she's trying to figure out the sort of person that I am. I say, "That was a good battle. Your Panpour seems to trust you."

She nods. "He's been my friend since I was five."

Alder stands up, brushing dust off of his pants. He interrupts, "That was a good one! Cassie, what did you learn from Rosa?"

"She talks to her Pokémon like they're people," she says quietly. "Like best friends. I should do that."

"You do, too," I say reproachfully, raising my eyebrows. Muse and Armstrong nod in agreement.

Cassie shakes her head. "But you sound like you really think of them as equals. Like…best friends. I'm just polite…I guess I don't really see my Pokémon that way."

I feel a little shocked. What is it with these people who view Pokémon as being below them? Or tools? Even if I'd never been a Trainer up until now, I never saw Pokémon like that. Mom's Liepard might've pissed me off more times that I could even begin to count, but I never said things like "That dumb beast" or "that bitchy Pokémon." If I despised her, I despised her like a despised a human.

Now, with Muse and Armstrong, they feel like friends. There is such intelligence in their eyes, and I don't understand how they could be lower than us. I don't understand how anyone can have that kind of mindset.

Alder seems to notice the conflict in my face. He sends Cassie inside on some menial task and approaches me. "Those children bother you, don't they?" he asks.

Shrugging it off, I crouch down to pet Muse, who has been making concerned noises at me. "It's just…when I was their age, my best friend was one of my dad's Pokémon. A Lucario, actually. And to see them kind so cold with Pokémon makes me sad. I was no Trainer, but I saw Pokémon as equals and still do and they don't," I explain.

With a low sigh, Alder scratches at his jaw. "Floccesy Town is traditionally a ranching town. Pokémon are tools here, whether it's because of agriculture, ranching, or some other very physical profession. I'm trying to train the children out of doing what their parents do, but with some, it's to no avail…" he trails off, and his expression brightens. "I think Seymour's tough defeat will give him something to think about. He learns best by example."

"I'd be happy if he ended up something like Cassie, even if she doesn't necessarily view her Pokémon as partners," I say.

Alder nods. Then, he looks down the road, eyes sharp. "You've gotten much stronger very quickly. If you head to Aspertia City, I believe that the young whippersnapper Cheren opened his Gym, finally."

Ah. Yes. The Gym. It had been the talk of Aspertia City for the past six months—particularly for young females. Cheren is renowned where I live for being a tactical genius and for also possessing the nerd-chic-sexy look. Hugh and his friends used to laugh about his supposed lack of masculinity, until I reminded them that he had massive clouds of fans and they got laughed at a lot in school.

I look to Alder with a grin. "I'm kind of excited. Muse has grown a lot even in the past two days, and Armstrong is so eager."

I am the epitome of eagerness, Armstrong retorts in sarcastic tones with a rather serious look on his face. I give him a dirty look. How dare he contradict his spokeshuman?!

Alder notices the look exchanged between us. "You can speak with him?"

I nod. "Yeah. I could with Dad's Lucario, too."

"That's not a common trait in Unovan people. Though Riolu and Lucario are smart Pokémon, they very rarely synchronize their aura to that of a human being's for communication." With a smile, he says, "If you've connected with two, I can imagine that you could connect with any Pokémon and communicate." Before I can question what he means by that, he runs off into his house, chuckling with some excitement as he went.

I glance at Armstrong. "You like me if you synced your aura to mine."

You have a pleasant aura. You are not like the usual human with muddy, ugly aura, he says in a snide voice. Pointing down the road, he says, Is there not a Gym to conquer down the road?

"Snarky little ass, aren't you?" I say, earning a barely repressed chortle from Muse.

He merely sniffs and starts off without me. I yelp, "Hey! Wait up! Don't learn bad habits from Alder! You're too young for that!"

Muse and I are left to run after him, laughing and almost tripping over each other as we go. Sweet, energetic chords thread through my mind and soul, filling me with a steadier warmth than the one I felt after capturing Armstrong. I've only been a Trainer for twenty-four hours, but I feel blessed to have such incredible friends already.

When we arrive back in Aspertia City, the air here already seems so different. It fills my head with the clutter of old melodies and my lungs with mildly polluted air. The difference of a few miles between a ranching town and a small city astounds me.

Before going to the Gym, I decide to visit my mom. I want her to see that, so far, I'm really happy with my Pokémon.

We take the familiar path home. Armstrong lost steam quickly after charging off in an Alder-like manner, and he currently walks about three feet ahead of me, sometimes commenting on the cityscape. I was born on Floccesy Ranch, and I was convinced that I would die there, too, he said. The city is new to me.

"Osha, osha, osh wott," Muse comments, twiddling with her scalchop. I feel like she said something in concurrence with Armstrong's words, and so I nod.

When we approach home, a bittersweet chord seems to resonate throughout my body. Once I take on the Gym and leave Aspertia City, it'll be a long time before I'm back here again. Before I can enter the house, Mom exits it, a rusty spade in one hand and a pair of grubby gardening gloves in the other—it's the time of year to plant tomato seeds, after all.

"Mom! Hi!" I call, startling her. She drops the spade and turns to look at me. Grinning, she drops her gloves, too, and runs over to give me a hug.

"Rosa! I can't believe it's only been a day since you've become a Trainer! And look at you!" she exclaims, drawing back. "Two Pokémon already—oh my Arceus, is that a Riolu?" she asks, her voice suddenly far quieter than it had been before.

I chuckle quietly, brushing my hair from my eyes. "His name is Armstrong. I caught him at Floccesy Ranch."

"I just…I'd imagined you'd avoid that line entirely, after your father…" Mom didn't finish her sentence. She let the smile return to her face. "But he's a handsome boy."

I like her already, Armstrong commented.

I resist the urge to clap a hand to my forehead. He likes having his ego stoked, that's for sure. With my best neutral expression, I say, "I suppose he is. Apparently, the Gym just opened here?" I ask, looking for confirmation.

"Oh yes! The old Trainer School finally has all of those arenas behind it being put to good use," she says. When we first moved here, Mom had helped with the effort to establish a Gym in this town after Brycen closed his in Iccirus City. In fact, I'm sure that's why we moved here. As a former ranked Trainer and trained healer, her current job is to promote strong Trainers and help set up organizations and establishments to strengthen Pokémon Trainers and their beloved Pokémon.

I smile. "I'm sure it's great, seeing it open."

"Yes. And the young Gym Leader is a classy boy, too," Mom says. "I hope you find a boy like that."

"Moooom."

"Don't sound so exasperated! Go and battle him, sweetheart! You already look so much tougher than when you left," she said. Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, she kissed my forehead. "I'm so proud of you."

Now that I'm a Trainer, you are, I want to say, but I hold my tongue. Like some parents think that their child being gay is a phase, my mom is convinced that my interest in music is something that'll die off if I'm distracted enough.

Regardless, I bid her goodbye and head toward the Gym. Muse demands my attention, and I scoop her up, planting a kiss on the side of her face as I do. "Are you ready for some tough opponents?" I ask, tickling her chin.

"Osh!" She exclaims, nodding fiercely.

Armstrong adds, I hope this Cheren boy is as fierce of a battler as everyone claims he is.

"Oh, he is. He's actually one of former Champion White's closest friends and strongest rival. They were thinking about instating him as Champion after she left, but he declined," I explain. "By the way, let's stop by the Pokémon Center quick. We need some Potions and things if we're going into a Gym."

If he is one of White's friends, would he be your age? Armstrong asks as we divert course to the Pokémon center. I see a few girls from school sitting on the doorstep of a nearby apartment, and they do a double-take when they see me with Pokémon. "Hey!" One of the girls, a stocky, curly-haired girl named Patrice, calls. "When'd you get Pokémon?"

"Yesterday!" I retort.

"So you're done being a music geek, then?" shouts another girl, a minky blonde named Shawna.

I merely smile. "Never," I respond, and I continue on my way. I can feel their confused stares boring into my back. For once, I don't even feel an iota of shame.

Armstrong glances back at them. Such ugly aura, he comments.

"I'm not at all surprised. When I first moved here, Shawna told her friends not to talk to me because 'quiet girls have nasty secrets we don't want to know about'."

"Osha!" Muse cries, aghast.

Hugging her closer to my chest, I draw my hands slowly in circles over her back. "I'm all right. I met Hugh, and his friends kind of took me in, too, so I didn't need a bunch of girls like that in my life, right?"

We reach the Pokémon Center, where I buy a few Potions from the vender's counter, and then finally make our way to the new Gym. Muse wants to walk from here, so I set her down and let her do just that. Her excitement is nearly tangible. Meanwhile, Armstrong gets a swagger in his step, jabbing a few punches into the air here and there. Ready to fight for their keep, my team knows this is a defining moment. Whether I win or lose here today says exactly what sort of Trainer I've become so far…

…in 24 hours.

The new Gym, now open, is a welcoming, scholarly-looking little building. It's essentially an old-time school house on steroids, sitting up on a knoll in front of the bluff at the center of the city. Standing in front of it with my Pokémon, I glance at them excitedly. "You guys ready?" I ask, dancing from foot to foot.

Certainly, Armstrong replies, while Muse nods vigorously.

I run up the steps to the entrance. The moment I start to open the door, though, someone on the other side seems to be turning the knob. Before I can stop myself, I end up pushing through the door and ramming hard into someone's body. They mutter curses as all balance is lost and we collapse to the floor together. Mollified, I try to roll off, but my legs are tangled…with his.

Yes. I just bulldozed over Cheren. He lays on the floor looking mildly daze, muttering, "…too light to be Bianca."

"Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!" I yelp, still attempting to untangle my legs with no luck. Armstrong is laughing at me, and I feel a strong urge to order Muse to blast him with Water Gun.

Cheren seems to regain his bearings a little, and he gazes up at me rather coolly. "This is a bit of a blunder," he says in a rather low voice for such a small, slender boy. He's probably only as tall as me. "I heard someone rushing up the steps and was certain that it was my old friend Bianca."

"She gave me my Oshawott," I say awkwardly. The way I'm sitting, I can't get off him unless Cheren decides to move his legs first.

Realizing our predicament, Cheren coughs awkwardly. "Uh…could you get off me?"

"My legs are kind of stuck under yours and at a bad angle. I need you to move yours first," I say sheepishly, looking away. He has beautiful, almost feminine features, and it's difficult to look at him. Not because I find him particularly attractive, but it's as though he almost makes me self-conscious.

Cheren twists his legs, rolling them off of mine. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry," he says, obviously about my legs getting tangled with his in a way that could injure me if I tried to get up on my own.

I clamber to my feet, wincing a little. He's all angles, and running into him had hurt. "It's all right. Well, um…I'm here to challenge your Gym. I'm a new Trainer, and I want to see my worth," I tell him as he stands up and dusts off the front of his white button-down shirt. "If…that's okay?"

I'm not attracted to him, but he certainly has a strange effect on me. I'm not sure that I like it.

Cheren nods, and the movement is terse and controlled. If he would be in music, he'd be a lead brass player—clipped, technical, and highly reliable, if not egotistical. "Perfect. Are you sure you have what it takes? There are students here who have studied here for years and still don't have a single Gym Badge."

I swallow nervously, but when I see Muse and Armstrong's faces, I repress this action. I turn to Cheren and nod. "If I don't, it'll still be a learning experience," I say. It'll be like an audition. Regardless of whether not I'm properly prepared or good enough, it'll still give me a good indication of where I am and what I need to do when it comes to Muse and Armstrong.

"Good answer," Cheren says, surprising me. His dark eyes pierce me as he adds, "I'll get a few of my best in back. If you can beat them…then you can battle me." Before I can protest and say I'm only interested in procuring his Gym Badge, he sweeps through a door nearby. As it clatters shut, I'm left in dusty silence with my Pokémon.

As you said, it will be a learning experience, no? Armstrong says, absentmindedly playing with one of his head tufts.

I nod. "Right." Let's go.

We follow Cheren through the doors.

A/N: Hello and welcome to "And Hugh doesn't get a say in this chapter, but check it out! Cheren! Whoo!" I love Cheren. He is the epitome of a lucky and successful puberty, I swear to God.

So, Armstrong's nickname is derived from Billy Joe Armstrong, lead singer of Green Day. Or you could say trumpet player Louis Armstrong. Either way, two really good musical Armstrong guys. In the Pokemon universe, neither exist, though, so I'll just pretend I didn't make an out-of-universe reference there.

I feel like I had some other thing to mention...mwehh. Not sure what it is. If I remember, I'll put it in the next author's note.

By the way, I have two finals tomorrow, and THEY'RE SCARING ME, GUYS. MATH AND EUROPEAN HISTORY. And then the day after that I have to give a presentation entirely in Spanish about my childhood and also bullshit some things about political science. At least I'm done with political science after this term.

Anyway, thanks again for reading and reviewing. I should go to bed; I need to be up in about seven and a half hours and I'll be taking a math final in nine. I hope you all have lovely weeks.

Until next update, enjoy life.